CHAPTER 9 | NOT OUR HOUSE

HODOR held up Bran's new saddle in front of the Greyjoy siblings, smiling proudly at the gift. As soon as Bran saw it, he immediately wanted to go out for a ride. Robb almost dismissed it, afraid for his brother's sake, but Theon soon convinced him otherwise.

They rode to the outskirts of Winterfell to let Bran go freely through the woods. He sat on his new saddle, allowing his horse, Dancer, to ride fast through the trees. He challenged Freya to a race to see who could run faster, and sometimes she would chase after his horse. She got tired after a while, and took to standing right by his riding path and screaming with him in joy. Bran truly was entertaining.

She didn't pay much mind to her brother and Robb Stark sitting on a lone tree trunk, not that she cared anyways. She began trotting beside the horse again, singing a song with Bran. Robb looked at Theon beside him, sighing, "I've never seen your sister relax once. She's so energetic that it's caused her to not know when to shut up."

Theon chuckled. "Maybe she's so energetic because she's planning your murder."

"Probably," Robb nodded, turning to see Freya Greyjoy clapping in front of them for his brother. "Not too fast," he cautioned Bran's horse.

Freya cheered on Bran as he soared through the trees on Dancer. It was amazing to see the happiness on his face. After a few moments of silence between her brother and Robb, she heard Theon ask, "When are you gonna tell him?"

"Not now," she heard Robb mutter.

That certainly peaked her interest. She spun on her heel, walking towards the two friends. She put her hands on her hips with a smirk. "Do I hear talk of fighting, boys?"

"Blood for blood. Right, sister?" Theon asked, without giving Freya any context. She understood what he meant, though, and nodded her head quickly. He turned back to Robb. "You need to make the Lannisters pay for Jory and the others."

Robb frowned. "You're talking about war."

"What's the matter with war?" Freya sneered. "There is always an end result. It provides a solution. Like my brother said, blood for blood."

"I'm talking about justice," Theon corrected, playing with the bow he swung on his shoulder.

Robb looked out at the trees, realizing the Greyjoy siblings might be correct. He marveled at the beauty of the summery forest around a place such as Winterfell. "Only the Lord of Winterfell can call in the bannermen and raise an army."

"Well? You're the ..." Freya shuddered. "... Lord of Winterfell. Why don't you?"

He looked up at her with narrowed eyes. Bran could be heard screaming happily in the background. "Are you finally accepting my status as of lately?"

"Not a chance, Stark."

Theon brought back the topic at hand. "A Lannister put his spear through your father's leg. The Kingslayer rides for Casterly Rock where no one can touch him –"

A spear through Ned's leg? Theon had told her when he heard the news, but it was still shocking that someone would take down Ned that way. An honorable man like himself was being shit on in King's Landing. She hoped things would get better for him, but also knew they were on the brink of war if Lord Stark continued to reside there.

Robb scoffed. "You want me to march on Casterly Rock?"

"You're not a boy anymore, Stark!" Freya exclaimed, growing angry at Robb's obliviousness. "They attacked your father. They've already started the war. Put on your big-boy drawers and represent your House when your father can't."

Robb's face grew angry. He never liked when Freya – of all people – told him what to do. "And it's not your duty, because it's not your house."

Freya rolled her eyes, looking behind her. Nothing was there besides the tree. Only silence could be heard. She unfolded her arms from her chest and furrowed her brow. Robb suddenly stood beside her, asking, "Where's Bran?"

"I don't know," she muttered, diverting her vision back and forth.

Theon then stood on the left of his sister. "It's not our house." He pulled on her arm. "Come on, sister."

Freya felt him begin to drag her away from the scene, and she tried tugging her arm from his grip. "Excuse you," she snapped as they meandered away from the clearing in the woods. "Bran Stark is now gone and needs help. I don't enjoy your friendship with Robb, but I care for Bran. He's only a child."

The word struck her in the chest – hard. It felt like her heart had plummeted, reminding herself of the one thing she could never have. Freya swallowed down the lump in her throat. She hadn't told anyone yet, not even her brother; not even Selene.

Theon turned to fire back a response, but when he saw his sister's pained expression, he halted his actions. "Are you alright?" He questioned, stepping closer. "You look sick."

She had to tell him – she had to. He was her brother after all. Freya opened her mouth to speak the truth, but as she did this action, a screech pierced the air. Bran.

On instinct, Freya withdrew her sword and began to sprint. Her brother followed, shrugging off the bow he had strapped on and arming it with a arrow. The sword of metal merging with wood filled her ears. She smelt rust and blood. Another scream rang out, but it wasn't Bran's.

As they got closer, the view of the scene became clearer. A corpse spewing blood lay on the ground. Robb held out his sword in one hand, and gripped a dirty woman's head in the other. From her dress, Freya presumed Wildlings. She then looked to her left as she ran, seeing Bran with a knife being held to his throat. She sprinted faster, yelling for her brother to keep up.

Robb began to place his sword on the ground, in fear for his brother's life. Theon readied his arrow to shoot, but Freya was quicker than him.

She made her strike – a good, clean stab through the gut of the Wildling man. He gasped, blood pouring from his abdomen. His grip on Bran loosened and caused him to slide to the grass. The Wildling man kneeled on the ground before falling on his face.

Robb looked up, realizing it was Freya who killed the Wildling. She wiped the edge of her nose as her sword dripped crimson red. Theon entered the clearing, slowly putting away his bow and arrow at the sight of the dead Wildling.

Robb's expression grew furious. He threw the other Wildling woman to the ground, causing her to yelp. He stalked forward, picking up Bran and checking him for wounds. "Are you alright?" He asked.

"He has a wound on his left leg," Freya mumbled, but Robb continued to ignore her.

"Yes," Bran then answered, "but it doesn't hurt."

Theon strode forward and aimed an arrow at the Wildling woman. "Tough little lad. In the Iron Islands, you're not a man until you've killed your first enemy. Well done."

Freya agreed, pulling out a rag and cleaning off her sword. Robb cradled Bran in his arms, grimacing at Theon before turning to Freya. "Have you lost your mind? I had the situation handled! Why can't you just bugger off, Greyjoy?"

This caused Freya to laugh heartily, and Robb did not expect that. "Are you serious, Stark?" When she noticed his anger wasn't wavering, she formed her eyes into slits. "You put your fucking sword down! If we hadn't come back, that Wildling would've killed you and cut Bran's throat!"

"You don't have the right –"

"To what? To save your brother's life?" Freya walked closer to them so they were at eye-level, although she was shorter. "It was the only thing to do, so I did it."

Theon waved his hand out. "What about this one?"

Robb and Freya gave each other one last glare before looking at the Wildling woman cowering on the ground. Rags hung loosely from her body. Her hair in knots, like Freya's, but worse. Selene would cringe at the sight of it.

The Wildling breathed heavily, crawling on the grass towards Robb. "Give me my life, my Lord, and I'm yours." She begged with her hands out.

Robb viewed to Bran. "We'll keep her alive."

Freya scoffed at his weakness. A real Lord would yearn for the kill, at least in her eyes.